


What he misses

by italiangirl1970



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/italiangirl1970/pseuds/italiangirl1970
Summary: Molly Hooper finally takes life into his own hands and Sherlok Holmes struggling to understand what he's missing. This is what happens, when the pathologist better than San Bart abandon everything and does not find.I'm sorry. English is not my native language





	1. Change

Molly Hooper was running  
  
Someone could say it was an opportunity, an opportunity that comes only once in a lifetime, but she knew that what led her to hop on that plane it wasn't nothing but an escape.  
  
She Put his head to the window, nothing else to see out, except the white of clouds and the red of the sun coming down on the horizon. Would soon be night, she succumbed to the fatigue of a day of furious and when she woke up, in another world, maybe something would change for the better for her, too.  
  
Sherlock had not call.  
Not since that famous phone call and certainly not to explain, apologize or try to strengthen their friendship put to the test again and again and again ...  
Not a Word, not even after government agents they had ransackedthe apartment: in their hands just a mandate that gave them proceed, _as if she were a terrorist who hid drugs. Or weapons._  
She found they were looking for cameras.  
  
_Still nothing._  
  
Not a word from Sherlock, though John had bridged the gaps and he had apologized for him, he had told her about the tests passed and the crazy sister... _nobody very normal in that family, then._  
  
He understood everything, Molly Hooper, and was sad about Sherlock, she would offer herself to help him in some way, if only he had accepted, but it seemed it was no longer the time of offers, and for over two months, the only inspector consultant in the world , had not even cross the doors of the morgue.  
She had left him its right time.  
What he had passed, it was not a foolishness and Molly knew that even the great detective he had come out torn.  
Though, the days became weeks and the weeks became months and nothing had changed.  
_Or all, in fact. He hadn't even sent some stupid sms that asks if she had body parts to bring to him._  
He didn't expect that asked how she was, this was too much for Sherlock Holmes, but at least, at least, a sign that she had not lost her friendship after her forsed declaration of love, at least one _Hey Molly, I never meant to humiliate you but, you see, it was at stake your life. I hope we can get through this and be friends again_  
  
_Because she felt as if his detachment ure was all her fault?_  
  
She it had the feeling of having been erased from his mind, as if she were a given useless, unpleasant person to deal with, now that all the cards they had been put on the plate. _And if she had never been more than a doormat?_ The one to go to ask for help, to get some interesting anatomical piece, one on which to pour every frustration with cruel words, without thinking of how deep they lacerateder her heart.  
  
Molly had plagued for a long time in these thoughts, the heart ripped whenever he thought of as, in fact, she had been manipulated.  
The save her life was nothing more than the natural consequence of the work of a man who lived, to unravel crimes and criminals and to save or give justice to their victims. Not for the victims, of course, but for the adrenaline rush that came pouring into him whenever he was working on a case.  
And she, Molly Hooper, was nothing more than yet another case.  
  
_So... not a friend_  
... rather a means to an end.  
  
In hindsight, she should have reflected better on the fact that the same Moriarty had not even considered her among the most important people for Sherlock. And it wasn't a case that only then, she had become part of that circle ... _for recognition and for utility, she saw him well, now._  
_The person who matters most, because it gives everything he can, without asking anything in return. Maybe just a little bit of respect and sensation (false, my God, false!) that they worked well together..._ But those times he hurled himself at her, she could not avoid feeling rejected put back in her rightful place, under his expensive shoe  
_… It' s Sherlock, Molly, what can you expect?_ A phrase which she used to justify it, to cover his nastiness, as if you already didn't know he was fully aware of hurting her. Yet he did it anyway, _and then apologized, and she forgave him always, always._  
_Idiot, to believe it was sincere._  
He was just genuinely concerned about losing his grip on her and her advantages  
  
  
 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

   
Molly Hooper bottomed in an unusual sunny afternoon.  
She strolled. For once with in mind only a grocery list, a few things, since it was just her and a cat, both not particularly demanding, but it had been a while since, the dispensation languished and refrigerator needed to be filled.  
She was about to cross the street, looking for not to not end up under a car, when her gaze ended up being captured by a well-known figure, his long coat flapping behind him, despite the heat.

_It was a blow to the heart_

He was as she had last seen him, tall dark, confident, that walk in long strides. The twinge to heart escalated and it got twisted up to keep her out of breath when he realized that a wonderful womanwas holding on to his arm: red mouth, dark hair collected, a wine color tailleur that hugged her, revealing the body of a model.

_Not a woman._

__

__

_The woman_

She smiled him, caressed him on the face and kissed him.  
Not on the cheek. A real Kiss, long and passionate. Nevertheless, in the middle of the road.

_Molly Hooper was going to pass out._ If she still had a heart, she was sure he had just crumbled.

She remained dazed on the side of the road, a passer-by bumped into her, she recovered, picked up herself and retraced her steps.  
She had no memory of how he reached her apartment, his vision blurred by tears not yet paid. She had barely been able to find the keys and put them in the lock, before collapsing on the floor of the entrance, just crossed the threshold.

She did not believe she still had tears to shed, but see that man who boasted of being married to their work and not to make relations, actually had a heart, and it was in the hands of another woman, was more than she could bear.

_How many lies, how many lies ..._

It took her a while to get up from the floor, and she there would remain much longer if it weren't for the twinge in his leg, the sciatic nerve inflamed from too much time spent to be compressed against the hard floor. She did not really cared where he was going and what he was doing (on the ground, curled up on the couch or in bed, what difference did?), but she was a practical woman and with duties and knew that she should have contacted Mike. Would not go to work. Would not stand the miserable looks, because, she was certain, if Sherlock waved the relationship with the woman, everyone was already aware. _All except her, who had discovered this in the worst way._  
_But because John didn't have at least prepared her? He was there during the phone call, he knew about her feelings!_

Eventually she sent only three days of illness.  
Shut the world outwas a big temptation, but she wasn't a kid who thought his life was over for the loss of big love. She was a grown woman and although it was desperate, she would be given a time to pity itself, to absorb, to accept and, finally, to be reborn.

She spent the afternoon in a state nearly catatonic.

_Be rejected for position taken against love and relationship was one thing, but knowing there was always another woman..._ it burning in the stomach and throat, burning in veins and in the head, leaving her numb and lost, the eyes are off, to look tv screen even long after the programs were over.  
She felt lonely. _No. She was alone._  
Now that Mary was gone, that Meena had married a doctor of Leeverpool, that all his friends had gone ahead and had a family of their own...  
_Because she had made it possible to model live according to the her need of Sherlock damn Holmes?_ She had lived for the morsels of happiness that he launched her, allowing her to attend the people dear to him, fooling her to be part of it.  
John, Mrs Hudson... were kind to her, but were not related to her. Don't be calling her to know how it went the day or if the had passed her the cold _or if she needed anything. It was as if she were made just to give, give, give ... ever receive ... Mary was not so. She worried, she called, she asked and gave advice._ She cared for her, so much to ask to do da godmother to Rosie.  
_John would never have thought of it._

It was late afternoon when they finally Molly fell asleep from exhaustion.  
Fell into a restless sleep, and in the morning she woke up in a state of deep distress, the mind busy with dreams of derisive laughter, long bare legs and dark curls.  
She rubbed his face in an attempt to clear. She felt a zombie, limbs numb for having taken an unnatural position, stomach upside down to the emotional turmoil and lack of food. She could not focus the room and had it not been for Toby, she would not even get up.

«You're hungry huh?» the voice came out rough, for too much time spent sobbing. She set in motion slowly and reluctantly, but inexorably. Today would no longer be a day for the senseless whining, but undertook to process this ... _mourning of love._ Cleaned the Toby' litter, renewed the water, filled the bowl of food and then dragged himself wearily into the bathroom. She sighed, lagging in the mirror, staring red and rimmed eyes, dirty hair, and pale skin. It wasn't the first time she happened to fall into such a sorry state and almost she ashamed to compare this painto that for the loss of her father. _Just, the fact that he was different, not made him any less real and less intense._  
But that time she felt absolutely helpless. Now, instead, she he would have struggled to chase that back, to collect all the remaining dignity, and not to allow anyone, least of all Mr. I know everything Holmes, to see her crumpled up in herself.

_She had overcome his father's death, alone: this was nothing by comparison._

 

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

   
Not even a week later, Sherlock Holmes the honored her with him presence, and only that: he gaze on the corpse of a young woman, almost unaware that Molly was in the room, as if it had been nothing but upholstery, _its rightful place, then, in his scheme of things …_  
Molly gulped hard, driving back the lump that had formed in her throat, her eyes become hard and focused on the job ahead of her: a heinous and brutal murder case. He spoke with a male, Sherlok, a Lieutenant american, arrived in England, a for chasing the person responsible for the murder, a unique partnership between Scotland Yard and the Department of Miami where the case had departed.  
It was a personal matter, for Lieutenant, because one of the victims was the young daughter of a him collaborator, and he would not allow anyone to get their hands on the killer, as well as himself.  
Not that it had not been there a power struggle and jurisdiction, buthe was not a compliant person and, in the end, he always got what he wanted, even if it meant coming to terms with the FBI.  
The man, Horatio Caine, it wasn't just, in fact. The great wheel of fate that in the case of Molly ran always strictly averse, decided that wasn't enough to be ignored, but that it was necessary to remind her what his rightful place among people from the life of Sherlock, putting again on the her road, the enchantress Irene Adler.  
It seemed that, to save her own ass from a life sentence, she had become collaborator of the federals.  
Horatio did not exclude that she has gone over all half the FBI, to ensure the own freedom, they had worked so hard to her grant political asylum, prevent her extradition and obtain a pass enabling her to return to the United Kingdom without being arrested... However, there was no denying that she was an expert in terms of killers and psychopaths, she who could move well in a country where the FBI moved like on eggshells.

Irene rambled to the morgue as if it were own home, rubbing herself against Sherlock whenever he had the chance, pointing to the fact that no, she wasn't dead, and that, Yes, it was still the friggin' gorgeous woman.

And then Molly, which was already wallpaper, donned his best mask by doctor and chose to partner in complete detachment, as much as a heart shattered could grant.

«So you're the famous mickey of Sherlock ...»

«How do I pray? » 

Irene stared at her, smug, to collect samples from the victim's trachea « The Mickey laborious, what runs, as soon as it is called, that does not even ask a piece of cheese in return ...»

Molly paled.Then, _no wallpaper, but rat._ She didn't know what was worse.

_Perhaps the worst was that he had talked her about her_

«Irene!» he rebuked Sherlock without looking up from the microscope

«I am afraid, Miss Adler » said Molly irritated « that you have confused slums where she works, with my morgue. I'm not a rat, I don't particularly like the cheese and I think I'm one of the best doctors in my area. DOCTOR.» she poked the sample into a test tube with formaldehyde « Now, because here is the only one not to be helpful, I invite you to take the door and go for a ride»

Irene smiled amused «Sorry» cocked his head to the side « perhaps I misunderstood your role here. I didn't realize it actually you was a small lioness undercover... Shame about that outfit, you don't do it justice. But then maybe you need to hide your small and bony body » said pointing to her brown sweater and baggy pants camel color.

Molly doesn't deign to take a look, the blood throbbed in her head and she did not even know whether to scream or burst into tears. Instead she turned to the detective

«Sherlock!» she called sharp causing him to wince «I think you should make the company Miss Adler, and go and offer her a coffee, since what you are currently doing is not inherent in the case»

«But ...»

«This case it has just been opened, the test samples are still almost all to be collected, you've just had a look at the body, already deducing the cause of death, what you are so carefully looking at under the microscope can not be anything other than your experiment » Sherlock grimaced very much like a child's pout caught with your hand in a jar of jam « Now: your presence is a catalyst for Mrs. Irene, so if you go out, she will follow you and I can work in peace with lieutenant Caine» Horatio gave a short nod of approval. Did not appreciate any of two personalities, one devoid of filters, unable to keep his mouth shut and the other too cryptic, full of secrets, in full line with FBI systems.

« We're jealous!» the smirk of Irene made whitened her «it's like that! » she laughed flirtatious «It annoys you to see me in his company, I make you feel uncomfortable, inferior ...»

«Come on Irene» interjected Sherlock «the fact that she is short in stature, and he dresses like a 15-year-old, doesn't make her lower than you. Is different but brilliant in everything she does! » _there they were, the usual words that appreciated her while despising her_ « And anyway Molly, seriously? I thought that two months was sufficient to get you through the...thing. » he continued typing absently at his cell phone.

_She was wrong. Sherlock did not have his heart in his hand, but a shovel and had already dug her grave..._

She closed her eyes in the enormous effort to keep herself all of a piece.  
Was hurt, humiliated, and really, really, angry. She wasn't a mouse, or a stupid girl. Maybe she wasn't attractive, enchanting or self-confident as was the woman, but was full of quality that she could hope for. He was selfless, was gracious, was lively and smiling. She always saw the best of people and pointed it out to him. And then it was smart and strong.. A strong woman, or she would not have endured all these years with Scherlock Holmes. Then, it was time to make their voices heard

« OUT» cried

The detective's face paled.  
Molly was angry andnow that he thought about it, it had not been a happy choice of words...He made to object, but the voice of the pathologist outweighed

«YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO ACCESS THE MORGUE WHEN I WILL BE THERE. »

« This is absurd, you know I do not want to work with anyone else! »

« It's not my problem. You should think before you move the tongue freely » said trying to regain some control « now, since I am the boss and the morgue belongs to me, you and Miss Adler you can turn around. I'm sure you have more important things to do, clues to look for, data to be analyzed. I'll call when I have something interesting to share, meanwhile, you can also go to the DEVIL! » ended up, screaming.

Sherlock tried to object, just declaring that _“she spoke like that spoke so only because blinded by anger”_ did nothing but adding fuel to the fire and she had to remind her that he handled a scalpel and who was not afraid to use it.

« I'm sorry »she said to the Lieutenant Caine «It is not my habit to be protagonist of ... a outburst»

«No problems» he answered deadpan« I think you was all too accommodating ...»

«Yes» returned to the body on the sheet and started again up where she had left off. It took her a while to focus on work, the tremor to hands didn't help, but still managed to collect the latest samples and to record the data, under the watchful eye of Lieutenant. She made some interesting comments and began to sew up the body. «How long have you been looking for him? » she asked, clearly speaking of the murderer.

« Too much, believe me... » and I had never been more true. Fifteen victims, of which only 3 in Miami. The last was the young daughter of Alexx, the pathologist of his Department.

They were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, while Molly ran out of arranging your documents and preparing the instruments for sterilization.

«Do you need a new pathologist? » she blurted out suddenly, surprising even herself. She wasn't going to say this, and now she felt a little silly, as if looking for a loophole.

Horatio looked at her thoughtfully, his head slightly tilted, how to study her better

«Perhaps Yes, Ms. Hooper, maybe Yes ...»


	2. EMPTY

Just over two months before ...  
  
  
_He felt drained..._  
  
It wasn't a feeling that suited him, and made him feel disoriented, unable to find some sort of benchmark in his mind, a secure room in which to seek refuge, a logical thought that made him feel himself again.  
  
_... he was ever himself?_  
  
Or rather a construct of others?  
  
Many of his recollections weren't real. Created by him, he was pretty sure they not be would appear equally real, if others had not endorsed them and made them solid. Mycroft ... his parents ... they all had worked to protect him ... yet they had not done a good job. _He saw well now._  
  
Sherlock Holmes sat at the center of the apartment, staring into the abyss that looked directly out of Baker street. He should not have been there to begin with, but he could not take off the feeling that this was the only place where he could think more clearly.  
  
_His place, his house_  
  
«Come away Sherlok!» John had seen him from the road « For Christ's sake! You know it's unsafe! Haven't you had enough trouble for a period? »  
  
The detective stretched his neck to see him better «Do not you have anything else to do? Rosie is already grown up? »  
  
« To the devil!» with a snort in exasperation, turned down the road looking for a taxi «If you don't stay crushed under some beam, you know where to find me!»  
  
Sherlock joined hands under chin, and was lost in his own mental Palace, long before John's finished the sentence. Mrs. Hudson had temporarily transferred from her sister, and he didn't count to be bothered by anyone else for a while, especially after I left your phone in the pocket's Belstaff, hanging downstairs.  
  
His palace of mind was similar in all respects to him apartment. _Destroyed._ And while the second would be easily be reconstructed, he he was sorry that the same principle of cement and bricks could not be used also for the former. Not a room had remained standing, and not even those in which he had gathered and locked up emotions and feelings. Not that he was completely foreign, something had changed after "the fall", but these feelings were mostly limited to a few people and never were the protagonists of useless manifestations of affection. He was unable and unwilling to express, with words and gestures, that he felt for his friends, but the reckless and almost self-destructive way with which he protected them, went far beyond what anyone else on the face of the earth would have ever done for a friend.  
  
_The realization took his breath away_  
  
It was as if he had just received a punch in the stomach and his heart was on the verge of breaking apart, as if a hand squeeze it and make it bleed. It wasn't happiness, or joy or relief, _all crazy those who exalted love for others,_ was anxiety and fear and anguish. The complete and total assurance that nothing was under his control and who would never be able to protect them, nor from anything and even forever.  
  
_Think, Sherlock, use logic_  
  
Logic told him that, to reduce the damage, he would have to restrict the circle of people dear to him, to a few not expendable individuals. His family was not under discussion, as well as Mrs. Hudson and John, the two individuals who knew him for the longest time ever. The same could not be said of Rosie, but she was an extension's Watson and therefore not expendable.  
Remained Lestrade, police inspector and therefore, relocatable to a collaborator, ultimately until the other day he didn't even remember the his name, _and besides, it is not that he attended much him, beyond than the cases he proposed to him._  
  
_Lastly, Molly_  
  
_Molly was a friend of him, but it was essential? It was really the most important person?_  
  
In many ways, in fact, she had been courageous, strong and loyal had: she had supported him, without a moment's hesitation, she had helped him, understood, rescue, put back on track. She had saved it both with knowledge of the facts and unconsciously (in his palace of mind, after Mary had shot him).  
_However it was Molly, regardless._  
It was in her nature to help others, be available, give support, make himself useful; would be equally generous with whoever had asked her, it was just a coincidence that on his way there had been him, _to take advantage of it._  
In addition, Sherlock had a debt with John he could never repay (forgiveness for the death of Mary), besides that, she knew, her blogger would not have been able to overcome the break with him, in addition to loss of his wife.  
  
_With Molly, had no real connection, except some interest in common and Rosie._  
  
He imagined that it would have been awkward at first, but eventually Molly, _intelligent girl_ , would accept, as always, and she would have started to live a life of his own. _Actually, come to think,away her from him, it would have been positive, she would replace him and would have thrown behind all the humiliating story of his "love" for him._  
  
The damn phone call  
  
... even him, he had gone out emotionally destabilized  
  
In retrospect it had been a terrible day, he had had no control over anything, and had come to that exchange with Molly, already heavily compromised. If he could use logic, as he was doing now, probably would not have frightened like that, and would find signs that Eurus the was lying; instead, he was so panicked, that his mind had abandoned him. Now, however, that everything had been brought back on a purely rational, he could definitely say that his judgement had already been affected, and that the concern for Molly was more intense, because of the catastrophic results of previous tests.  
  
_Beside that, unfortunately, considered her a friend._  
  
That's why, for your own sanity was determined to bring their relationship to nothing more than an interaction between professionals.  
  
Then Molly, true to her nature, she would return to help him with the same fervor of ever, once you get past the initial blow.  
  
It probably she would also thanked at the end.  
  
  
 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

During the following month, work began at the at the 221 B.

To say that Sherlock Homes was impatient, was an understatement. He was grateful to John and still had need of his own company, but she wanted to go home, she wanted to resume her routine, shoot the wall when he was bored and take up the violin whenever he wanted, without incurring any nocturnal cries and related expletives.

He was wandering around restlessly for the house of his friend, most often in an afinalistic way, as if he had developed a nervous tick, that forced him not to stand still in one spot for more than 10 minutes. Sometimes Rosie enjoyed these walks, especially if his trills were too annoying or too delicious to be ignored; so she lay in the arms of detective absolutely unaware of his ruminations and weird habits, happy just to be on the move, at the expense of someone.

«You get bored too, isn't it?» he told her, before proceeding to a loud reasonic, of which only he knew the topic.

There had been no cases and Mycroft still had strongly advised him to refrain from any activities, unless it were a national and/or international event (minimum 8), and to focus him energy to rebuild, or at least try, relationships with the well beloved family. Included Eurus. It wasn't easy, and he had not deluded himself not even for a moment that it was going to be, but the upsets that faced every time he went to her... he felt responsible, even though it was only a child, at the time of the facts. He could not free himself from the off the unpleasant feeling of being the cause of death of Victor, of having caused the actions which had led to so much, and of not having been able to find him. Eurus, with its silence, _made him restless and insecure,_ _with a bloody want to distraction._ That kind of distraction that not even one case quoted 10 was able to offer him.

_He needed._

A crazy need of resetting the brain and formatting it, of filling bliss it, or new perspectives. He was tempted. Then he'd wake up in the middle of the night with the crying or gurgling of joy of little Rosie and even though he had never thought possible to feel so protective of someone who drooled and filled diapers and nothing else, he knew he would never ever threatened to put her in danger for some white powder

  
  
 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

« Have you talked to Molly?» John was feeding Rosie seated on the high chair. Half pappa was over on the ground and the other half was dripping from the mouth. It did not seem like she liked them it the new flavours of weaning

«No» Sherlock sped on the laptop, almost obsessive

«You're going ...»

«No!» he interrupted him «Avoid sermons.I know you've already talked to her and I don't think I have anything else to add. Some more excuse, wouldn't make any difference, she is also already so clumsy when I'm around, which I don't think I have to embarrass her further»

John looked at him open-mouthed «You're still a bloody bastard, do you know? I thought...»

«What? In the _" they lived happily ever after_? " » she closed the laptop apparently satisfied by what he had found

« Don't talk to me of " _happily forever after_ " » bitter said John « You may not match her feelings, but she deserves your respect»

«In fact. I respect her so much, that I leave her spaces» got up grabbing the Belstaff « Now I'm sorry, but I have an appointment» a series of expletives joined him as he left the house

He didn't feel like arguing with John. He was so confused compared the story of feelings, that little would have been enough just to question the choices made. Were not his area, but he needed to work alone and in their own way, without interference. Throughout his life he had believed to be free, and then find out that his every action was a result of the choices of others. The loneliness, the deduction as a form of offense and defense, the giving up of sex and friendship; but also drug abuse, to cover an indefinite uneasiness, an unknown pain that kept devouring him from within.  
He was still hard to see why his family had chosen to give vent to his fantasies of child, covering everything and starting it, de facto, to decompensated life, sterile and skid. if it were not thatnow he had an idea of the worries that had suffered his parents, with the actions of Eurus, probablyhe would have excluded them from his life.  
Instead, he even attended them more than before.

He rushed to the Diogenes Club to find Mycroft buried in her chair, intent to turn slowly a glass of Cognac.

«You owe me a huge favour» said the brother, without looking up from the glass. The movement was almost hypnotic

«I am afraid that my debts are pratically endless ...» said Sherlock « But I would not brag too much about the current one if I were you: the work was already half done»

«Unenforceable without my vote. I remind you, that the agreements they expected she not to set footin the United Kingdom ...»

«Convenient, then, that from a witness in disguise she has become assistant ... A major advantage for our American friends, and some points of interest in common with Scotland Yard ...»

Mycroft did not comment, but he stopped turning the glass and stared at him directly in the eye

«Instead I do not understand your ... motives»

«Personals?» Sherlock shrugged «You deprived me of a good slice of leisure activities, in recent years, and it's my duty to get experience» Mycroft lifted an eyebrow «a lot of experience» he concluded

« You realize the risks, I guess ...»

« I'm not a fool, believe me. But I find it extremely tempting the counterpart and, since she is... available...»

Mycroft stirred uneasily «You can't trust»

The cellphone vibrated in an incoming message «Never said I would» said Sherlock reading the text « Now, if you don't mind, I have to arrange the details»

The details in question arrived a fortnight later, in the form of a tall woman, slender and sophisticated. He climbed the stairs of 221 B, finally restored, showing sensuality and haughtiness, and snubbing with pride, the criticisms, not at all veiled, of the landlady. «I pay rent, Mrs Hudson» bellowed Sherlock from atop the landing

« I host whoever I want and for as long as I consider it appropriate. » He did not pay attention to the answer, already bored by the inevitable prejudices that the arrival of Irene had unleashed. Instead he concentrated on her, determined to savor her figure.

She was beautiful. Aged a bit, since the last time thet he had seen her ( _even him he had some gray hair_ ) but maturity gave her an even more intriguing. She was wearing a black trench coat that came to her knees, her hair in his typical hairdo, high heels.

« Hello Sherlock»

« Irene» he greeted her

The woman smiled at him accomplice, before passing by him next door and slip inside the apartment.

«I felt iit was all blown up.» she turned to look over her shoulder, the detective against the closed door « and yet, it seems to me everything same»

«You know me. I'm pretty creature of habit: I made sure to get most things to how they were before»

Irene watched him better « You look different ... and it's not just for silver in your hair. » she was now in front of him, and was studying him with interest «You have a less rigid air.»

« This is partly true. I had a little adventure ... peculiar» closed his eyes as she was she passing him the index on the lips « but we're not here to talk. Isn't it? »

«No. We are not» she opened the trench and let it slip into a puddle at her feet.

_Below, she was completely naked_

_This was what Sherlock Holmes needed_

The old self would have rejected the very idea of indulging in promiscuous activities, considering them a useless waste of time, a distraction for the mind. The body was nothing more than a transport, and certain needs could be overlooked in favor of more productive tasks. Not that he hadn't done experiences, over the years, but they were mostly relegated to those rare moments, in which the degree of frustration required the full satisfaction of primordial needs

If he has exclude that one time where it had capitulated gladly ... the passion, sensuality, skin against skin, the sweat, the heat of her breath, the slipperiness of her folds. The endorphins to the maximum after a powerful orgasm, was left him in a State of euphoria, much like the effects of cocaine.  
_And he knew well, what he was talking about_

As he rethought their interactions, Sherlock had come to the conclusion that Adler would be a good solution, _in many aspects._  
Among their, the catalyst was not only the undeniable physical attraction, but also the combination of minds. He appreciated the her ingenuity and constant challenge that she represented, hard to read, but for this extremely stimulant.  
Over the years, he had been thinking about her despite her being manipulative and unreliable, she had that _"I do not know what"_ , which had driven him to even care her. _To a certain extent._

They landed on the bed after a session of burning kisses. There were no ropes or whips in this meeting: after all this time, they just needed to touch and take each other. The shirt ended up on the floor, to keep company the trench, torn and pull badly yanked off his shoulders. Her nails scraped away the pale flesh of the pectorals of Sherlock, while she arched to him, his pubis naked writhing on his horse swollen. The discharge of lust further strained the already tight fabric of the trousers.

« You're still too dressed» the woman complained, opening his fly

«Shut up»he ordered her, and although the tone was authoritarian, she laughed « I don't want to hear any more from you except the sound of your pleasure. » went down to take a nipple in his mouth «your sighs» he pulled with teeth « the enthusiasm »and released him with a pop to start over again

If the Adler found the request strange, not gave it to see, instead she seemed thrilled, excited by the idea of finding out what he wanted, just by touch.  
She spilled it on his back riding him astride, enjoying his expression of surprise and lust when she ran her hands along the bust. _It was rare to see Sherlock Holmes with the eye veiled by desire, and know that it was her who caused, it was a reason of great satisfaction._  
She caressed him sensual, with the tips of her fingers, her femininity pressed on the swelling not yet released from the pants. She leaned forward, to tickle him neck with its hot breath, she licked him just below the ear, and then down the gorge, on the hollow of the shoulder, and on the solid pectoral.  
She lingered to suck his hip, possessive kisses with mouth open, a job of teeth and tongue while her hands were hurrying to remove his pants.  
Sherlock freed a gasp, for the unexpected bite on his hip, and barely suppressed a moan, when, finally, she took it in her mouth.

_Finally, his head was free from thoughts, nothing else more the feelings of pure unrestrainedness to dominate him, all he could hear was the wetness of her mouth that was pumping up and down, sucking him deep in the throat, her hand anchored at the base of the dick, to tighten and caress the soft and swollen flesh of the balls..._

_If he continued down that path would not last long._

Maybe he could also think about it, after all, that was just the beginning, but he would not have succumbed to the woman so easily. it would have been like recognizing the power she had over him ... and he did not like to appear weak, much less lose.  
He grabbed her by the hair, pushing herself deep, the member pressing on the back of her throat, until she was forced to reel for the air.  
This did not make her pliable, but rather even more combative. She grabbed his buttocks and stuck her nails into it, the tingle soon turned to burning, _he would not be surprised to find the blood-stained sheets._  
He pulled her by the hair, until it off. She panted heavily and a trickle of spittle dripped from her mouth, his cock twitched at the sight, and all he knew was that she was on her back with his cock buried deep.  
_Irene Adler was vocal, she wanted to let he know how much she was liking the performance and how much still wanted more._  
Mrs. Hudson would certainly not have appreciated it, but it was all as Sherlock had planned: carnal, fierce, savage.  
The woman would distract him on those occasions in which boredom and bad thoughts tried to mislead him; she would have satisfied him by keeping his interest and curiosity alive, she would not have oppressed him with the feeling, she would have remained loyal until proven guilty and he would not have had to worry about her safety because she was perfectly able to look after herself.

He pushed deeply, striking a particularly sensitive point, and the expression of pure ecstasy that she drew on the her face, was enough to send him over the edge. He was immediately hit by a rush of pleasure, exaltation and gratification

_This was much better than he remembered it_  
  
 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

«What's going, Sherlock? » John was sitting cross-legged on his old Chair. Actually, it was new, but perfectly identical to the old. if it was not strange, _and you could never say_ , would have thought that Sherlock had beaten it with a hammer, to recreate the same protuberance that had the old one.

«A case, obviously » the detective replied without turning around, the figure facing the window, his hands behind his back

John raised his eyes to heaven «Don't treat me like an idiot, Sherlock. I'm talking about the woman»

« I need to explain how they work the couplings between men and women?» he asked with a smile. He did not give his friend time to object «Miss Adler's, will be my welcome guest for a while. It happens that, she knows of facts relating to the murder of Kensington Gardens. It is fortunate that such a crime already has a solid base to work on, although the road will be quite tortuous, considered that there is the reasonable doubt whether it's an international crime ...»

« Inter...»

«... national. Yes. You are slower than usual today» John grimaced «15 murders spread across several us States: young female students, if not very young, black, all daughters of doctors. No apparent correlation. Tortured, tied up and thrown into canals to drown. This is the 16th. Probably our killer is a traveller, something to do with his work. Informatore farmaceutico or representative of medical instruments. Or just a simple delivery clerk, came here on vacation. As you can see, the possibilities abound. A cross-check might narrow narrow down the field to people landed in the United Kingdom in the last 20 days ...»

«And _the woman_ ...?»

«FBI Collaborator. I know, she was a supervised special, but someone like her is wasted into hiding. We felt, and the case has facilitated our meeting already half planned. What luck, huh? »

John flew over about the last sentence «And, do you fuck her?»

«Pretty intensely and several times a day. Satisfied?»

«No!» John wanted to ask what was lost, but Sherlock was already ready to fire him

«Irrelevant. I know you have Rosie in the nest, and i must go to Bart. I'll let you know the developments»

In fact, Sherlock Holmes was quite curious to see again Molly. He had taken a radical decision, it was not so straightforward, even for him, put all on one floor detached, to how it was, before she became a part of his life. It was not so cynical and callous, and he could not forget how useful she was. However, nothing would have distracted him from the belief, that the best thing to do would compensate her with something tangible (at this, would think Mycroft) and make her free from his selfishness. If it meant he'd she hated him, so be it. He had never given weight to others and could not have started doing it now.

_The match did not leave him satisfied, as he had predicted_

First of all he didn't expect the motion of impatience that was nestled in his breast, as soon as cross the threshold of Bart, and that seemed to grow exponentially, with each step that the nearer him to the morgue. Hereconnected it to the new electrifying case, but not even he could erase the sense of nostalgia _and guilt?_ that they grabbed him when saw Molly, folded over the body.

«Who is it?» the woman whispered in his ear

«An excellent pathologist»

«Don't lie to me »she sucked him the lobe, heedless of being in a public place and in the presence of a corpse «You stiffened and your heartbeat is accelerated»

Only now, Sherlock became aware of the hand that had slipped under the Belstaff, in the center of the chest

«She was» he gulped in search of words« ... precious. Without her help I wouldn't be alive, probably. Also has a great sense of duty and loyalty, as well as a remarkable intellect. Controversially, the sense of humor»

«Did you ride her? »she asked, mischievous

« Oh my God, no!» he withdrew, horrified «she is a lab rat! »

« Take it easy. I was just curious » aughed Irene

_To ride Molly?_ The very thought, made him goose bumps, not because she wasn't pretty but there was nothing even remotely sexual in her, it was like thinking of kissing passionately Mrs. Hudson.  
He suppressed a shudder.  
He left Irene a giggling on the sidelines, suddenly focused on the body on the slab: _female, 20s, black, hands and wrists scarred by ligatures, cigarette burns on the forearms ... perfume_

_Unusual._

The body was at an early stage of decomposition, after 16, no 15, hours in the water, should have emanated the characteristic stench..  
He took him a while to record that he got too close to Molly, equally folded on the body, intent on collecting fragments from the mouth and nose. _A new shampoo probably._ He lingered on the curve of the neck, the small ear, nose wrinkled in concentration. She had never noticed how delicate her features were, _a small porcelain doll ..._ On the other hand, was not in her nature to notice to unnecessary details such as a person's appearance.

_Unless he wanted to deduct it, and specifically of Molly there wasn't much that didn't already know or that it was worthwhile to investigate further. The only thing that really mattered was that her to continue his disinterested collaboration with him._  
With great regret, he verified that it was not a viable option soon, especially after she throw out badly him in a bad way, from the morgue.  
Maybe it needed more time.  
  
 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

The case was a 10.

More than enough to keep him busy during the day, and most of the night. It was impossible for Sherlock to lose the habit of diving into a mystery, and neglecting the natural needs for rest of one's body. Too many years of doing it, I had made it a habit, a very personal thing that kept high levels of adrenaline in the blood, the frenzy of feel that the solution was just there, and that he lacked a little to reach it, a detail, a particular neglected ...  
Irene was a distraction not particularly welcome, in those moments. He never would have believed that in the world there was a person more selfish than him, she wasn't interested in the solution of the case and was not affected by the possibility that man chose another victim. She was intent to its pleasures and desires, and above all to look for a way to secure a safe place beside him. If she believed, that he had forgotten to protect herself, because overwhelmed by passion, she dead wrong. There was no audio or video file of which he was not aware. He knew he was looking for a way out from being an collaborator of the FBI, was a free woman, _in every sense_ , and having to be depend on someone, it made her feel a prisoner.

_She was a ungrateful. In the end, she could have died already for a while_

When the case came to an epilogue, Sherlock had to admit that celebrate between silk sheets with Irene's head between his legs, was fulfilling almost as much as having identified, among the possible candidates, the monster that had left a trail of death behind. A vendor. Just as he had surmised

Fortunately, or unfortunately, according to the perspective, this also closed a chapter.

Had been surprisingly engaging, the combination with the Adler, a mix of subtle deductive skills, pointed observations, exceptional eroticism. He had almost remained subjugated, eager to bury himself in her, every time that she added details that he had overlooked. It was therefore with dismay, that he realized that, at some point, she had bored him. Not all of her, sex was not be discarded, but competition continues had lost charm, as it had become a source of stress, keep the guard up, when when she was around him. On the other hand was fully aware that he had never intended to take a long-term road, with her, had ended up being nothing more than an experiment, perfectly successful in some respects, but a insufficient for another. On balance, something sterile, at that end. He then explained to _the woman,_ that she could not keep her in London, but that their meetings could instead continue on base less frequently ( _maybe, she wouldn't have taken it very well, mused)_.  
He couldn't wait to resume old habits, search cases with John and return to experiment. He missed especially this part, but doubted that Molly was ready to open the doors of the morgue. _Or to give him some interesting bits._

«John!» Sherlock swooped in friend's house causing him to jump. He had fallen asleep on the couch after a sleepless night, because of teething of Rosie «You must call Molly to see if she is still angry with me»

The friend looked at him sleepily, unable to focus the question «Molly? »

«Hooper, Yes. Pathologist. You should know her» poured himself a cup of tea from the coffee ready, while John took conscience «I haven't her seen for over a month. Last time, we were examining the body of the girl, and make me feel just now, it seems a little indelicate even to myself»

John stared at him estranged. "Good luck." said. Sherlock frowned "finally she decided to stop chasing after you, and though I feel sorry for Rosie, I think she made the right choice. No manipulation, no malice, no humiliation»

He didn't like where he was going with this conversation, and a strange sense of agitation, began to creep into him

«Are you saying what I think?»

«If you're thinking she's gone leaving everything, then Yes. Oh! »shouted after him as he ran away from home «Not even Mycroft will help this time!»

He would have laughed at such a statement, if only she had time to stop and discuss it, but was in a hurry to resolve the issue and to put each piece to the right place. _Molly was one of those pieces_ , and even if in his mind she had downgraded, she still occupied a space destined for her. _To her and to no one else._

_He was so full of self and of one's convictions, that when the truth reached him, was not prepared to face it._

«I quote the words of Dr. Hooper, Sherlock» said Mycroft without lifting his eyes from the document he was looking at « _Youshould avoid any attempt to track me down, or I'll make sure that people know how public money, is used to track down honest citizens whose only misfortune to incurring the whims of a highly functioning sociopath. I finished to let me use by Holmes_ » signed the document at the bottom of the page, folded it and put it in an envelope « We understand each other? Sherlock?»

Whatever Mycroft Holmes had wanted to say remained unheard, the mind of the detective captured in a thousand directions and each of them converged on the same spot.

_Molly had left._

Closed into his mental Palace, he found himself unable to formulate a coherent and logical thinking, to discuss with the pathologist who resided there, because she did not want to see him either.

_Molly had left_

_Molly, with her smiles, her kindness and her unwavering patience._  
Molly with her questionable sense of humor and her horrible clothes.  
Molly who looked at him and really saw him,who she had faith in him, even when he had done nothing to deserve it.  
Molly who suffered all him every frustration and every time she got back on her feet ... even though he always said her such horrible things.  
She ... so fragile yet so strong ... 

Mycroft Holmes was convinced that the issued noise by Sherlock was a snort. It took him nearly a minute to realize that he was hyperventilating, saw him collapse on the chair in front of him, the head in his hands, to torment his hair .  
Was not new, for the old Holmes, see him in that state, the detective had never been able neither to understand nor to manage emotions. He didn't know how to let them go without be overwhelmed, and because of that, _had never left him the terror, that one day he would find falled him in some alley, the brain shorted circuit forever_

«I must have miscalculated something» Sherlock started to talk-non stop « I must have lost something, I not took into account the emotional reaction, I also believe that I was not discreet enough ... no, not even respectful, if it's for that » he snapped to his feet, overturning the chair backwards« I should not have belittled her feelings for I ... if I had not waved my entertainment with the woman to the four winds ...but then no. Molly certainly understood that I needed a distraction ... maybe I should have explained ... I did not want to hurt her, just drive her away from me because ... but it was obvious, it had to be obvious for her ... it was necessary ... I wanted ...I wanted »

« What did you want, Sherlock? »asked Mycroft confused

«How? » he paused to reflect, the sentence reminded him a lot ...« No. No. The real question is: _what do I need_? » he grabbed his head, frustrated, turning on himself « The truth is that I do not know! I do not know! It's like I missed something! As if Molly had deprived me of something! » he made a bitter laugh «Sentiment?» he asked

« Maybe I'm not the most suitable to answer you ... »

«What I feared ... Or I'm sick. » he threw himself back on the chair «Christ! I feel like shit! » A sob went out unchecked, he felt empty, the only implacable presence, the tension in the chest that refused to let it go. The heart had every intention of jumping out, such was the frenzy with which they contracted, and even the breath had started to come out in hard gasps, the suffocation ready to overwhelm him ... « What should I do Mycroft?»

« Well » he replied « You're a detective. Indeed, the only investigative consultant in the world. You do not need me to tell you what to do »


	3. Stalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know anything about Miami, I just looked at a map and I have no idea if you can go jogging along the route I chose! :) For those who are also a little interested in history: the chapter was very long and I was forced to divide it, even if the longest part has yet to come. So the chapters have become 4 (I just have to perfect the final)  
> Sorry, I did my best

«Face down and hands behind the head»  
  
The order arrived together with the triggering a trigger.  
  
Was unusual, for Sherlock Holmes, to be taken by surprise, but of this could blame only his conceit and an excess of ... _distracting._  
  
 _No, I had not been distracted, how much rather, absorbed._  
  
He did as was told him  
  
« I'm not a criminal» he ventured, looking ahead« I am an investigator» stretched his neck in an attempt to look round, but it was obvious that his _quarry_ she had been made move away safely  
  
« A bit out of your zone, do not you believe, Mr. Holmes? »  
  
Detective snorted «Therefore, recognized me. ..»  
  
Horatio Caine did not mention putting down the gun «I do not like that a member of my team feel threatened ... »  
  
«I have done nothing to be considered a threat » he objected, shrugging her shoulders «I was doing only research, using all discretion I'm capable of.»  
  
« Not so capable, if we are here»  
  
Detective opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering « I grant you, that maybe some prospect I missed out ...»  
  
« We'll talk about it to the district » and he grabbed his wrists to handcuff him  
  
« He's kidding, right?» asked Sherlock to the limit of horror  
  
«I'm afraid not, Mr Holmes» closed the cuffs and he did raise him« I'm afraid not »  
  
 _That had not gone as expected_  
  
 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

  
  
  
Some time before  
  
  
The woman was wearing a pair of leggings grey with a yellow side stripe, which is intoned at the sports bra. She was thin, not the kind of thinness sick, but rather the kind of muscled leanness, of someone who is used to it follow a healthy lifestyle and to play sports on a daily basis.  
Every day, she walked the same street, from the Department stores Marshalls to the convenience, store where she stopped to buy a soda, then up for 7Eleven, until the New World School of the Arts, before returning back to the NE 3rd St and 2nd Ave,passing in front the Peruvian restaurant.  
She wore a pair of earphones. _Not a good choice in a city overcrowded and potentially dangerous, she was still a petite woman and you could never tell what would happen, in a moment of distraction._  
  
Margareth Patel, though (this was her name) did not seem particularly worried. Showed, in fact, a security that would never have associated with her person.  
  
Sherlock Holmes gasped.  
  
He was waiting to see her emerge from around the corner, and although he was sitting in the shade of a Palm tree and were the early hours of the morning, was sweating profusely.  
He detested the hot, scorching sun, the sweat soaked garments, salty droplets that crossed his forehead, and scorching his eyes with a frequency far too annoying.  
  
 _Yet it was worth it_  
  
There was, in fact, something that impressed him deeply, every time he saw her leave the house in a hurry, with high ponytail that swayed behind her, something which made him unable to _recognize her_ , too proud to admit of never having even bothered to really look at her ...  
  
He took a long drink of water.  
  
«Hey Miguel!» he had to refrain avoid turning suddenly towards the sound of his voice  
  
«Hello Margareth!» replied the boy « If you pass by me tonight, I'm saving you a portion of sopa !» He was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and he leaned on the broom in a ridiculous attempt to flirt  
  
 _No, idiot, she will not: today is Tuesday_  
  
«Thanks, Miguel » the woman answered, out of breath. « Today I'm going to the Pub with the team!»  
  
Margareth Patel saluted the young waiter, and continued his run, past the detective.  
A mixed smell of sweat and citrus invested the nostrils of Sherlock: inhaled while breathing deeply, again looking for any sign of recognition: _missed entirely the formaldehyde, the only perfume that had ever associated with her, even when she wasn't bent over a corpse._  
He knew she had been wearing fragrances in the past, but he had never catalogued them, _not like those of the woman that who infiltrated powerfully in the olfactory system: pink for seduce,vanilla to make taste, honeysuckle to assault the senses ..._  
  
 _And in any case it was a comparison needless and silly; were different as night and day and night was certainly not Margareth._  
  
He stood up wearily from the bench, partly because of the excess heat and partly not to betray the disguise from old person.  
The running was over and she would be prepared to go to work, leaving him time to change his disguise. It was a pity he couldn't watch her at work, maybe he would have discovered that not everything had changed, but he knew with obsessive precision every her movement, and although they were weeks he monitored her, he still felt like a child who was unwraping the Christmas gifts: _elated and amazed._  
Only 10 days had been enough in Miami, to collect basic information: neighbors, co-workers, shifts and related schedules, market favorite, ice cream man, no takeout, ride. Hospital four times a week ( _at this he was still working on it, a person that did all that sport could not be sick_ ).  
  
In effect, there was nothing so exceptional in what miss Patel did, yet Sherlock couldn't call it _boring_ or _useless_ , too absorbed by her normality, from her small figure, and by her voice, when he happened to catch a few conversation.  
  
 _The first time he had followed her to the Pub, had been illuminating ..._  
  
That particular day, _a Tuesday, precisely,_ Sherlock was stationed outside the Department.  
  
The evening had just begun, but life wasn't turning off, in area, how much rather increasing, rich in coming and going of patrols that began patrolling, andin small groups guys, who were abandoning the swimsuit in favour of an clothing,not even excessively more coveringing.  
He had been waiting patiently,sure not to attract attention,not less than the Japanese couple that who took a selfie with the Miami-Dade Police Department in the background.  
He had lit a cigarette and had started to flow quickly on the phone, wiping the sweat from time to time. He appeared, at who watched him, nothing more than a tourist trying to consult maps, sites and localrestaurants.  
  
There was no take long because Margareth was coming out through the large glass windows of the District. She was never a disappointment in terms of schedule, perhaps because, unlike him, their not obliged her to extend the service beyond a reasonable time.  
Which was illogical, considering the powers of deduction of the woman: _what was the point to waste them in favor of the the next pathologist?_  
  
 _Low rise jeans, red top with wide cleavage, silver sandals with heels.  
Programmed output.  
Absence of nervousness, a routine, probably._  
 _Loose hair, innovative cut, frayed._  
He gave her more than Sherlock had liked to admit, _stood out that femininity, that he had refused to credit to her for a long time_  
  
He had followed Margareth and and the black guy she was until with, Erik Delko if the memory did not cheat him, up to a local Pub.  
He had found a parking (renting a car guaranteed him a certain autonomy and then didn't trust drivers Americans) and had entered a moment later,strong of his disguise: he wore a mustache, bushy eyebrows and a long hair, held together by a low tail. Ripped jeans and wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, nothing f  
urther far, from his worst casual wear.  
  
«I've never seen you around here, friend» the barman had welcomed him, serving him a drink «Are you passing through, or you stop for a while? »  
  
«Both. I'm on vacation, and depending on how it get on, I may decide to stop for a longer time » said Sherlock  
  
« Then I wish you a good stay» and passed quickly to a new customer  
  
The detective had sipped the fresh beer, enjoying the sensation of bitter along the Gorge, had rotated the stool, and given a broad look at the place.  
The setting was a mixture of rustic and modern with warm lighting, wooden beams and frescoes on the walls. The tables of different sizes, could accommodate a variable number of people and were placed under a small stage.  
In short, the place was filled with people, and even if Sherlock had tried to keep a low profile, his presence it had not gone unnoticed anyway to new clients: he was still an outsider and the least he could arouse was the interest, or the _suspect,_ given that most of them was a policemen.  
Horatio Caine in particular had squared him with an attention that would define _clinical_ and he would feel uncomfortable if it wasn't Sherlock Holmes. Instead, he was quietly indifferent, sipping their beer, while lieutenanthe passed next to himand reached his team.  
  
There was Margareth there.  
  
Sherlock had seen her laughing and sharing jokes with her colleagues, much more comfortable than it had ever been ... _with him._ There was hugging and kissing without restraint ( _on the cheeks, but they were still kisses, what did these Americans have, for the physical contact?_ ). She stood shoulder to shoulder with that guy, Erik Delko, which Sherlock knew _not to be_ her boyfriend, that she spoke in her ear making her laugh like a little girl.  
  
He swallowed a long swig of beer.  
  
She had never been so natural, light, spontaneous and happy, in his presence; When he was read her, he recognized in her the nervousness, inadequacy, insecurity. The feelings were all _from him_ , of course, and he had done little to mitigate them ... _Although, after the fall, he had tried to be more polite, and show her at least a minimum of gratitude._  
  
 _After everything it was messed up ..._  
  
He cleared his mind, focalizzado of newthe attention to his _goal:_ there was a general animosity that don't involved only the group that interested him. From a Distributor would retreat cards numbered, and there was a crowd of people around there, that had blocked the passage, increasing the crowd in front of the counter and next to him  
  
«Karaoke tonight» the bartender had told him  
  
 _This would have been heartbreaking_  
  
He loathed karaoke, those pathetic attempts of people out of tune and lacking in taste. Then, again, he had to to refrain from cursing when he saw that even Margareth had taken a number: _she would be rendered ridiculous, it's not that a new look and the security gained could work miracles, she should have known it, she was no longer a little girl._  
Anyway, there wasn't much he could do, he took another sip and had prepared to pretend to listen. That, was quite good for him: create a façade, and smile interested while studying the situation, read people and made deductions.  
  
 _Widower, close to retirement, refuses to accept that her daughter is gay  
  
That kind instead ... sophisticated clothing, lifestyle over the top ... not with the policeman's salary...probably steals evidence ... drug's proceeds... or the drug itself ... Doesn't know is that it's dead: the circle is to close on him ...  
  
She, in the corner, doesn't know decide which of the two men want most: the one with the full wallet or the more attractive. She keeping them both on the rope, but between the two litigants, the third enjoys ..._  
  
« She is good, huh?»  
  
The rumor had reached him like an echo in the distance, probably had repeated a couple of times, before getting his attention. It was fortunate, that the confusion of the local would justify each lack.  
  
Sherlock his voice cleared « Spectacular!» except, he had no idea what she was talking about. And actually, even he didn't care.  
  
« She is part of my team, and with that voice we are sure to win»  
  
 _Yes, right. Team. So it was a race between mediocre._  
  
« You wouldn't think that such a power can come out of such a small person ... Excuse me, you know if I'm bothering you, but you was staring at her open-mouthed and I was thought you was enjoying it! "!»  
  
« Yes!» giggled Sherlock «Absolutely enchanted!» _of course had it all wrong._ He had forgotten close his mouth up whilehe tried to deduce a human case particularly difficult, he was not looking at all, let alone listening, whosoever, in that moment, was making himself ridiculous It was only on his trajectory.  
  
 _One moment...He knew this woman, she was miss Duquesne ...  
  
It was then that he had felt her._  
  
 _But nope, she ain't with it though  
All because she got her own dough  
Boss bossed if you don't know  
She could never ever be a broke ho_  
  
 _It could not be her  
It was impossible_  
  
 _Don't tell me what to do  
And don't tell me what to say  
Please, when I go out with you  
Don't put me on display_  
  
 _Too much grit, too much voice, too much airiness_  
  
 _You don't own me  
Don't try to change me in any way  
You don't own me  
Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay_  
  
She took the stage like a practiced star, putting emphasis on the gestures that interpreted the melody, the emotion, that leaked from the thousand facets of her face  
  
 _God, she was ... it was ...  
  
... simply too much_  
  
He had launched a banknote on the counter and left the Pub without even apologizing to the woman who still spoke to him. He desperately needed a breath of fresh air, and to get out of there before doing anything foolish.  
He was no longer sure I found the right person, it was her but it wasn't and it felt as if all those years before, _Margareth ... no ... Molly, she was Molly,_ had kept a part of herself.  
  
 _Instead it had always been there, it was he who had taken only what was necessary, discarding everything else._  
  
He had come to his the memory the little melodies that she sang she did not know she was being listened to, during a cutting or while doing to fall a sleep Rosie ...  
  
 _he had heard, but had always chosen not to listen ..._  
  
Tenacious little Molly, was always entered her life on tiptoe, softly and gently, ignored in her entirety, except in that useful to him.  
  
Sherlock released a puff of frustration at the thought.  
Molly had always been many things and he knew he had put them aside for _fear_ of seeing, how deep she had struck him..The fact that it was the most important person ... even he, did not had fully understood the implication: it was not only the valuable assistance she had given him, was so much more.  
It was admiration for her work, for the fierce love,that she put into what she did, for availability disinterested who had always shown him, for her unconditional loyalty.  
She wasn't a fragile person, had helped him to fake his death, had kept him safe by taking upon his shoulders the burden of such an action and, more, knew resist under his sharp tongue, accuse every blow with dignity and walk, just the same, with her head held high... She knew how to defend themselves and when it was worth fighting for, _which was to claim the respect or to remind him the privilege of his gifts._  
  
He passed his hand in her hair: she had deliberately chosen to lose such a valuable person, not just an assistant expert, but especially a woman who had given him his friendship, although not deserved, and had demonstrated him affection, even when sar it would have been wiserand more logical to turn your back on him and leave him in his shit.  
  
He watched her enter the house.  
  
 _He could imagine her, put your keys on the Bowl at the entrance, melt the high tail and slowly remove your clothes drenched in sweat.  
She'd take a shower,she spread the moisturizing cream all over her body (was finishing the one with strawberries, then would pass the mango) and would choose the linen from the dresser next to the bed.  
Sherlock licked her lips unconsciously at the thought of green lace thong, in the middle ... he did not know that she could bring one ..._  
  
He cursed irritably.  
  
Was reacting in an illogical to _his_ pathologist, he would leave as soon as he saw that everything was in order, that she was okay and that she didn't need him.  
 _What the fuck you say SherlocK? Are you in need of her. Shut up John! Then why aren't you able to let her go to her life? Because I want to be sure!_  
  
And it wasn't a lie.  
  
The departure of Molly Hooper had him upset.  
He had to work for a long time to restore the balance, and eventually he was convinced that it _was not_ her absence have caused an imbalance, but rather the loss of an essential point of reference for his work.  
They were all incompetent, in his eyes, and since there would be no solution to his problem, he was forced to disassemble every single pathologist who had replaced her, until you find a worthy substitute.  
 _Had to be someone who did to her case._  
  
 _Oh God ... how much he was wrong.._  
  
Of course, if he had been satisfied, there was someone passable, but the trouble was that he was Sherlock Holmes, and wanted what he wanted, _exactly how he would have liked to not think of her in any way  
  
Which turned out to be impossible ..._  
  
The smell of formaldehyde, a particularly intense color, fruit (cherries, especially) and his mind was screaming, for her. It was ... disarming. The need to talk to Molly to hear his voice, even just for one "Hallo", became so intense that make uncomfortabl. It was _boring_ that the feeling slipped on him when he was in the places she would go to, but even more if that occurred when there was nothing that pertain herat the end of a day, for example, orin half-sleep, when he seemed himalmost to be called by her.  
 _But she wasn't there, there was never, even in his Palace.  
Her room: empty and sterile, in the center only the cold morgue slab, to remind him that had been ther._  
  
Molly came out of the house, pulling him from his thoughts, and he called a taxi  
  
He could precede her to the District ( _accompany her had become a habit and he would have been assured, that somebody else it would do once he was gone_ ), he was so sure of her schedule, but for some reason, he couldn't let her go.  
Maybe it was because it had been so long to wonder what had happened to her, if she were happy, if she finally started a family, if she was safe: now that he had the chance, he did not want to stop _looking at her._  
His mind had been particularly enterprising making, imagining the worst case scenarios, for her, and the thought was sometimes so overwhelming, to make him move in the middle of the night, looking for answers, or a relief ...  
  
He found neither one nor the other: Molly seemed disappeared, or he was not looking for the right way. Maybe he wasn't sufficiently motivated to find her, he felt ridiculous to have those... _emotions_ , and he was not clear him what to do or how to get around. With regard to relief, well ... did he try again with Adler, but the experience had proved lacklustre and disappointing.  
He had even thought about Wiggins at some point ... and he lacked a thread that he would fall for, when _his pathologist_ allowed himself _to annoy him_ during one of his cases, just because the victim was very similar for height, hair, color and eye shape.  
  
 _And so now you're a stalker._  
  
 _A positive, of course.  
  
I doubt that there is a positive sense for the word stalker ...  
  
Shut up John_  
  
Was about to turn right, when Molly surprises him,taking the road to the hospital. Maybe she had a body to examine, or maybe it was one of those periodic visits, the fact was that she had twisted the schedule, inserting an unforeseen in what he now considered her routine.  
Not that he despised it, it could be an opportunity to find out what happened during these visits, he had always been a little hesitant to follow her there, as if afraid to discover things that things that were better left hidden  
  
 _Grow up, Sherlock!_  
  
He followed her down the aisles, at a safe distance, stopping occasionally to consult internal maps, making a fake phone call or even ask information. Molly got into one of the elevators and the detective had to runto,to prevent it from closing , for to go up after her.  
They exchanged a brief greeting.  
She was dressed in a light dress, knee length, a vaporous skirt with floral prints, one thing to Molly, but much more refined than she normally would have worn in the past. The bodice put them emphasis on waists and crossed straps back on his back made him want to stretch to graze her neck ... _or to lick it._  
  
 _He was definitely freaking out had._  
  
He had long since stopped having certain thoughts and to be honest they had never occupied, a millionth part of his brain.  
Like everything, even sex had played a role of _finality, not a necessity_ as could be for John or Lestrade or even for Mrs. Hudson.  
 _No._ It had served him as a vent, as a distractionof which he had grown tiredpretty early, in truth, preferring direct the energies to stimulate mental abilities rather than sexual.  
That's why the latest meetings with Irene had been nothing short of pathetic. Her, furious, had blamed him, but the reality was that, for Sherlock, Irene Adlerr, was no more interesting than a mechanical saw and that in the end, what mattered was to regain control of his impulses.  
  
 _Except for ..._ except for, he was difficult to control the subconscious, those damned erotic dreams that woke him up with the sheets smeared with sweat and ... _else, still wearing, the feeling of caresses, sighs, wet kisses, and so much, so much skin.. It was scary and illogical that she occupied his dreams, even more for the feeling of pure bliss in which they left him..._  
  
The elevator doors opened.  
  
Molly came out with a fleeting salute, accelerating the pace, and Sherlock had barely managed to put a his foot out, that he heard the unmistakable sound of a trigger that upload  
  
«Face down and hands behind the head»  



	4. REALIZATION

« Are you sure, Mrs Patel?»  
  
Standing behind the mirror, Horatio Caine and Molly Hooper was stared at the man in the interrogation room. Since he had sat at the table, had not ceased to drumming your fingers, putting a strain on the nerves of the guard agent  
  
«I fear that sooner or later the shots » said Molly « and I'd rather it happen after I spoke to him »  
  
« How do you think» he inclined his head in his characteristic way «I'll be out here»  
  
Molly took a long breath « I won't need it » and entered.  
  
She felt like she was going to the gallows as he closed the door behind her and leaned his back against the wall. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was a real stupid to feel yet still so vulnerable in the presence of the world's only consulting detective _... but she could not do anything ... would not have been enough years (or miles) to make her forget what she felt._  
  
Sherlock is cleared his throat, ceasing immediately the annoying drumming  
  
«Hello Molly» debuted« How about sitting down? I would offer you a cup of tea, but it seems that here is something pretty rare» it was almost surreal speak to her without subterfuge or disguises, and although he had been caught red-handed he couldn't stop smiling. Molly came up and took the chair across from him. He noticed that her hands were shaking « Did you cut your hair» he continued «They look good you » _actually he found himself finding her beautiful_  
  
« Thanks, I thought it was time to change»  
  
Sherlock cleared yet « In general, you look good.» _And beautiful. Since when was it so important, transportation?_  
  
« Because _I'm_ fine » followed a rather awkward pause. There was many things to say, but it seemed that neither of them wanted to start...  
In the end, Molly broke the silence.  
  
« What are you doing, Sherlock?» asked « What goes through your head?»she was set to remain calm, but the more she thought it, the more the blood was going to her head. Had violated her privacy! «You don't have cases to focus on? Or the stalker is your new profession?»  
  
«I can correct you, Molly. I did not leave you disturbing messages, indecent proposals or threats. Not even a bouquet of flowers. I have done nothing to trouble you ...»  
  
«It may be so, but I assure you that having someone the ribs, obsessively, is equally distressing. And anyway ... how the hell did you find me?»  
  
The detective shrugged « I have my methods, even if you have not done much to facilitate things.»  
  
Molly laughed bitterly « I didn't do anything, you've done everything alone» leaned forward in his chair« Tell me Sherlock: how long did it take to find that II was not there? I bet that you remembered that i existed only when you needed some piece» Sherlock fell silent, _and in fact did not even know what he might say_ « What the hell do you want from me now? » she asked furious «I have nothing more to give you!»  
  
« First of all ... » began, staring at his hands in front of him « I would make you my compliments» Molly looked at him confused « I always knew you were a woman full of resources and you showed it to me on many occasions, but I just never had the shrewdness to let let you know ... You've been farsighted to choose your mother's maiden name to leave the country ... wouldn't have thought of that. No. Is incorrect. I thought about it when everything I tried turned out to be a hole in the water. The point is, that I did not even know your mother's surname and to find someone who was willing to tell me ... »  
  
« You are not congenial to everyone, huh?»  
  
« No. They are not ... » he started over to fiddling with your fingers « Is not that ... not that I don't cared about you ... »  
  
«I guess ... Did you have problems with the other pathologists? » Sherlock fell silent « obviously ... If you'd come a bit earlier, like three years ago, or so, I would have thought you'd want to take me back to satisfy your ego. But now ... After three years? There is nothing that justifies your to spy on me!»  
  
«Three years ago you would have justified me? Because if so, i assure you, my intentions haven't changed. I tried, but there are no competent people who can work for me»  
  
«What?» Molly almost jumped on the chair « I never worked for you!»  
  
The detective waved a hand « Insignificant detail: it's the same thing»  
  
« No it isn't! » she was indignant « I've never been one of your lackeys, or your subordinate, but I've always treated as such! I'm a doctor, I have a degree, I know what I'm doing and deserve your respect»  
  
« I assure you that you have it »  
  
« Don't make me laugh! You don't respect anyone and certainly not me.» Sherlock leaped to words, but could not argue because they were pretty damn _true_ «You always took me for granted, as if your word was enough to make me run ... » her voice fade in your throat, unable to continue. « God ... you had damn right. There was nothing I wouldn't do for you ...»  
  
« I know ...» he ruffled the hair mechanically «I'm sorry ... » Molly huffed «Really, I'm sorry and I know that it is not enough to repay you for everything, but it was not my intention. It wasn't ever was. I'm a shit with the reasonings, I have my own way of seeing things andand I lose the overall .... »  
  
Molly sniffled « What did you come to do? »  
  
Raised his head, bewildered. In fact he did not know exactly _what_ he was doing, only that he _needed_ to do so. It took him a little because the open mouth come out some sound  
  
« I ... to apologize? »  
  
« And did you mean do it _before_ or _after_ being arrested? » she provoked him skeptically « I mean, for how many weeks you followed me? Two? Three? »  
  
Sherlock ducked his head sheepishly « Almost two... » coughed « months ... »  
  
Molly blanched.  
_Months? What on Earth had to watch for so long time?She don't know whether to be angry or embarrassed, maybe she had made herself ridiculous in his eyes , maybe he would use the new information to deduce her and return to scourge her with sharp words._  
She put her hand to her mouth and the detective served very little to read her emotions.  
  
_He found himself horrified by what he saw_  
  
«Molly» began «I assure you ... I didn't mean to hurt you. It was just ... » sighed « was to last very little. To come here, to make sure that you're okay and to go away. » Molly looked at him, frowning « But I can not plan certain things very well ... simply, it was not enough for me... »  
  
«Why?» she asked incredulously  
  
«You were a puzzle. I had come to find Molly Hooper and found Margaret Patel»  
  
«We are the same person, Sherlock»  
  
« Yes, but ... I realized i didn't know anything about you, and every day I spent here I had an extra piece for ... »  
  
« Then ... I became a case ... »  
  
Sherlock fell silent, again.  
  
_Perfect._  
Molly shook her head resigned, not that she were expecting something different, but could not prevent the disappointment that grew into her chest. _Even after three fucking years old..._  
  
« However you haven't answered my question.» the detective looked at her, confused « Why?Why bother to come looking for me? To see what had happened to me? Why not leave me in my ... soup? What do you care about how I am? »  
  
«Ahem ... » the detective looked at his hands again. « I'm afraid I was tremendously selfish in this too. Your choice to leave from one day to the next ... »  
  
Molly almost choked at his words « Not really overnight.Two weeks of forewarning for the resignation, one for to pack all my stuff, separate me from Toby and greet my friends. You could have been among those »  
  
« I have the feeling that in that case you would not have left »  
  
«Maybe» she granted him «but continues, I interrupted you»  
  
«Yes. Fair. We were left with the selfishness» he passed his hand in his hair « I have a certain control craze, I think you know that. Each has its place: John and Rosie, Lestrade, Microft (although I hate to admit it), Mrs. Hudson, my parents and... you» he sighed « Once there was Mary. » he paused « Anyway ... I struggle to accept changes that I haven't personally planned ...»  
  
« I would have taken you away the sleep? » she asked sarcastic  
  
« So to speak. I needed to go back to having a minimum of control and to do that I had to know what had become of you... » joined his hands under his chin « hence the selfishness ... »  
  
The explanation wasn't standing, it was evident that lacked some important piece. Sherlock was Sherlock. His mind would never work like that of others, and in some respects was woefully understaffed  
  
«You don't know huh? ... » surprised him  
  
The detective's eyes darted in all directions but never touched hers  
  
«No » he admitted reluctantly  
  
«Well. Then there is nothing more to say. You have satisfied your curiosity and it is time for you to go back to London. I could say that I'm glad I got to see you, but I won't. Be satisfied that I am happy to see you in good health and all in one piece...Give my regards to all, and a big kiss to Rosie. » said Molly in one breath, as if he feared to lose the thread of the speech, then got up and reached the door « One day I could come to London on a visit. Goodbye Sherlock, Horatio will make sure you reach the airport»  
  
« Wait! » Molly's heart skipped a beat « What betrayed me?»  
  
_If she had the balls, they would be dropped._  
Picked up herself,not to let getting leaked her disappointment out (at least she hoped it) and, with one last sad smile, answered him  
  
«You were too sure of yourself. Really did you think I wouldn't notice that people, apparently different, had many things in common? » Sherlock's eyes brightened with understanding «Same build, same tendency to ruffle the hair, same Hypno-manic concentration for cell phone screen ... It took me a while, but in the end I was almost sure it was you ... »  
  
«You are brilliant ... »  
  
«Goodbye Sherlock »  
  
She left it in the room, lost in thought. You probably he don't even have noticed that she was gone, he was so intent on rebuilding his moves, figuring out the exact moment she recognized him.  
  
«Sooner or later he will realize what he lost» Horatio welcomed her  
  
« It's just because you do not know him» in another time, Molly would have cried. Now she was just resigned« for him, I'm not even a 3 »the lieutenant looked at her questioningly «Forget it ...forget it»br / >  
 

 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

  
  
  
Molly had kept her word.  
  
Horatio Cane had secured him reached the airport, and that he got on the plane to London.  
  
 _Not that he had made things easy, of course,he was still missing some data and he had done everything to gather as much clues as possible, with or without the Miami Department's consent_  
  
Sherlock leaned back, inhaling deeply.  
He hated to fly.  
It was moments like this, that he missed a _dose_ , even if he was not entirely sure that it was the flight itself that made him restless, or instead, the unpleasant sensation of leaving something _unfinished._  
  
 _A closer look, he wasn't pleased with himself_  
Had been careless and superficial in his last mission, probably due to the fact that it wasn't a real mission, and fail it would not have caused the death of anyone.  
  
 _Maybe you had aim unconsciously to be discovered ...  
  
Don't be ridiculous, John  
  
Really? Are you going to tell me that you don't have hoped she would welcome you with open arms? Maybe she would have thanked you for coming here from London expressly for her?  
  
I came for me, not for her, just for me, remember_  
  
 _Crap, crap, crap._ John chuckled _Explain to me then, how her green thong arrived in the pocket of your jacket_  
  
Sherlock swore under his breath as he found the presence of the stolen good. _You took it, not me._  
  
 _Come on, man, I'm in your head, do you remember? Very difficult for me to take possession of something tangible ..._  
  
 _He had forgotten to put it in the tray and that was the only plausible explanation._  
He passed the slight fabric between the fingertips and repressed the urge to throw the garment between the seats, when he realized he was about totake it to him nose.  
  
 _God was going crazy._  
  
 _Should I be jealous, Sherlock? It is for her that I got rejected me? That little pathetic little mouse who can't keep for herself a real man when he sees it? She, who must volunteer among the sick children of the hospital, to have some love?  
  
You, you'll never have anything, Irene! _He replied angrily  
  
The detective opened and closed her hands in an attempt to keep calm. It wasn't like him to react to provocations, especially if they were empty allegations, but of all people, Irene Adler was the latest she could afford to talk about Molly.  
He was going to ask her to leave, when she kissed him.  
  
 _There was no way that something like this would happen in his Mind Palace and although it had not seized the moment, it was clear that he was sleeping. Maybe it was because he had not slept a wink in the last 72 hours (but was not a new thing for him); Maybe it was the tension of the trip that had accumulated with the fatigue already there, or maybe it was for the small pill of valerian that he had taken, but that he doubted it would served him ...  
He groaned when a wise mouth took it in his mouth it making him arching ... the dream was a bit confused,the woman had passed from mouth to be on her knees between his legs in a split second, and he was torn between surrendering to pleasure and drive her away with a push.  
Pity he had numb limbs and no desire to send her away_  
  
 _He felt so weird and guilty, but his traitorous body was not at all agree with him. It was almost a relief when she broke away with a POP  
  
Then her mouth was at her ear._  
  
Sherlock Holmes snapped into the seat, like a spring.  
  
« I need the plane go back!» almost shouted, to the hostess that passed with the appetizers « Don't look at me with that face dumbfounded, you heard me!» insisted  
  
The look he gave him, was of absolute commiseration mixed with a hint of suspicion, as if the mere fact of appearing with the dark, lanky and pale sockets would label him as a drug addict. _Not that he could blame her, he had been it many times, but this was not the case._ If he insisted, however, would have made things worse, with the risk of ending up in "isolation" as dangerous subject or, worse, as alleged terrorist, _and he did not want to miss the first class bonus ..._  
  
«Forget» corrected himself returning to sit « Just had a bad dream»  
  
The hostess gave a relieved smile « Don't worry, we'll land in a few hours. If you really must go back, just take the first available flight » and offered him a flute of Champagne  
  
Sherlock gave her one of her fake smiles «Perfect!» gulp down all in one breath. _It would have been in 24 hours_  
  
 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

  
  
« I had a dream»  
  
Molly swore the voice behind the door and for a long moment she was tempted to call 911. Had just gone to sleep and even though the next day was her day off, did not wish to spend the night listening to the ramblings of a man, that believed she had greeted forever just hours ago  
  
«You can't get here in the middle of the night and expect me to let you to come in » said, looking out at the threshold.  
  
«And in that case you shouldn't have let me in» shoulders of women fell, while Sherlock he was made his way in the flat « Furthermore, we both know that I would have woken up the whole building, if you hadn't answered»  
  
Molly took a deep breath, rubbing her temples «What do you want, more, Sherlock? »  
  
« I ... » suddenly he was no longer sure of how to proceed  
  
«What??? I haven't got all night, Sherlock! » she did not want to raise his voice, but was no longer the Molly Hooper that it was used her as a doormat, and she was angry, that he still thought about dictate the rules.  
  
Then, she saw him: insecure and vulnerable and had again fear for him  
  
«What happened? Are you sick?»  
  
«No ... Yes ...» he smiled disconsolately «don't know... » he sat on the couch at the entrance, and threw his head back covering her face with her hands.  
  
«What? What you don't know? Are you in danger? Has something happened to John? Or Rosie? Is that so? That's why you're here in the middle of the night? » Molly rushed at her feet « Talk to me, Sherlock, what happens? »  
  
«Molly» whispered to the verge of tears. He still not looking at her « I'm going crazy and there was a time when I thought I had to delete certain thoughts out of my head in the only way I know ...»  
  
 _This was not a good omen_  
  
« Are here, tell me what's bothering you»  
  
«I have this thing ... A dream ... »  
  
«The dream you were talking about? » Sherlock assented imperceptibly « What is it?»  
  
Sherlock inhaled sharply.  
 _He felt rather uncomfortable, now, to answer such a question, and he did not like, made him look vulnerable._  
  
« I don't know if you want to hear it. .. » blurted out, making her jump « I came here stupidly. Now that I think about it, a real mistake » he ruffled his hair agitated, searching for the exit door  
  
« What? »  
  
« Yes, it's weird coming from me, but I was wrong »  
  
Molly Hooper did not believe her ears  
  
« MR. HOLMES! » she yelled, before him reached the exit « YOU WILL NOT LEAVE FROM HERE, WITHOIT AN EXPLANATION!» she got up in all her tiny stature, inflating the lungs and blushing with anger « YOU CAN NOT PRESENT HERE, UPSET ME AND TO GO, AS IF IT WAS AN IRRELEVANT THING!WHAT I SHOULD THINK? HOW SHOULD I FEEL, TO IMAGINE THE WORST THINGS? ... FUCK SHERLOCK! ... ARE YOU RETURNED IN FLIGHT FROM ENGLAND, AND DO YOU WANT TO BELIEVE ME, THAT YOU HAVE WRONG? »  
  
«In effect, putting it this way ...»  
  
«FUCK YOU, SHERLOCK!» _God, she was tired! It had been useless to flee to the other side of the world, which was still in the same situation._ Raised her hands to the sky, exasperated « DO AS YOU LIKE! I'M TIRED Of THIS ... ALL THIS! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT SHERLOCK? » didn't want to cry. She had been strong so far and did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but it had a big lump in my throat and it was increasingly difficult to swallow « You never should have search for me ...I was fine, first, to pretend that you didn't exist,I was building a life for myself, I love it here, I have friends who love me for who I am and they never forget me ...»  
  
At Molly's words, silence followed. She had not expected anything different, really, but not for this, it hurt less.  
She was about to invite him to leave when he finally surprised her  
  
« I've never forgotten you... » he began «When I heard that you went, I felt weird and ... confused ... I tried removing the feeling, and I thought it would be easy ... I was wrong ... yet. » smiled mortified « It often happens, lately ... Anyway, I was able to reduce the problem to the incompetence of the pathologists who who came after you. And they were incompetent, believe me. » Molly huffed « but even when I wasn't on a case, I was feeling constantly dissatisfied, Not even Rosie silenced my brain... John insisted it was for your absence, lost you so suddenly ...» passed his hand between the curls «I had to agree with him»  
  
« Don't say crap, Sherlock » said withers, Molly « I had lost me before»  
  
«That's where you're wrong. Didn't I lost you, just filed. I put you aside pending ...»  
  
«... that I was still useful to you...» even after all that time, to know it, it made her climb up the bile in my stomach  
  
« Instead, you chose differently. You've taken me away all kinds of control and suddenly opened a hole in my head. » he looked at her with eyes veiled « the Molly Hooper's hole. »  
  
« Oh! And in your _magnificence_ , did not you know how to close it? » she ironicalled bitterly  
  
« Actually, I did try. I've always been good at building rooms in my Mind Palace, and I said to myself that I could do one where bury you ... But as much as I tried, when I was alone, no cases, not John or Rosie, late in the evening or even in daylight, I finished there. To open the damn door and and to find nothing us ...»  
  
« Well. Don't you think? The nothing is not a problem, in the end, you just brought back things in their proper level, with me. I was _nothing_ and went back to being _nothing_ »  
  
« You know it's not true ...» there were so many things to object to this, but Sherlock did not give her the time. « But I came to the conclusion that I wanted it to be like this. It would have been easier to have you beside me without having to worry, without having to keep you safe ... »  
  
« Of course ... To John and Martha ... or to Rosie, you could not apply the same reasoning ...»  
  
«With you was easier» he admitted without look her in the eye « You wouldn't have opposed and would always be available, if necessary»  
  
«But sure!»she almost shouted back « The idiot Molly Hooper, the Mickey Mouse, your own carpet, where to wipe your feet every much!»  
  
«You make me sound like a monster ...»  
  
«Not a monster but a machine, a computer, able to select and delete and then restore when needed» _God she felt bad, she had forgotten how it felt to be used by Sherlock Holmes_. She sniffed, holding a hiccup. And he was there like a statue, speaking like an automaton, smoothly in the voice, that was betray whatever emotion  
  
«You have subverted every my logic ... » almost toneless continued « Because, if to make you move away from me, it had to serve not to make me worry, not knowing anything about you almost made me crazy. I had no control over your life, on your friends, on your knowledges. I wondered constantly what you did, if you were safe or if anyone was taking care of you. » drew a long breath and only then Molly realized that he was trembling « I've never understood why you coulded influence me so. Mostly I not accepted it. I hate to depend on others, and I always look for a rational answer. As I said, I insisted to believe I missed me only the pathologist, so I tried to move on. But it didn't work. » stared at her suddenly « Do you understand why I had to find you?»  
  
She nodded «I became an annoying distraction.»  
  
« I wanted to finally extinguish the obsession I had for you and I hoped, really hoped, I resumed my life without more interference from you» _well, at least it had been a thorn in the side_ « At some point, I started to dream the woman » he said, making her wince  
  
« This I don't want to hear that » _not now, not ever. How could he be so cruel?_  
  
«She was sweet and soft» Molly grimaced « she made me feel safe, happy and at peace with myself»  
  
A traitorous tear fell down the girl's cheek. She stepped back a step. _It was ridiculous that he wanted to escape from his own home, it was he who had to leave_  
  
« Go away » she whispered  
  
Sherlock did not seem to hear her. _Or maybe, he did not care_  
  
« I don't know exactly when it started, but it happened with some regularity when I was more tired and I struggled to keep my guard up» he approached Molly almost unconsciously « Only that the data did not coincide. I hadn't seen almost nothing of her, and even though I thought he was Irene, I was beginning to doubt it, as more details were added to dreams, a skin imperfection, a nevus that wasn't supposed to be there,the nail color ... » he took another step, making her retreating again  
  
«Why are you doing this to me?» Molly's voice was a ripped whisper  
  
«Dreams stopped when I started looking for you. I thought it was for the exaltation of the case ... »  
  
«So you can go»  
  
« I tried. I took that plane and I swear that I got on board » Sherlock had now invaded his personal space, forcing her back to the wall  
  
«What is the bond between me and the woman?» asked in a whisper  
  
« The fact is that I fell asleep during the flight and I dreamed the same woman soft and cozy that it made me feel good » Molly gulped, stubbornly staring at his chest. She did not want to listen, but his voice was inflexible and he refused to let her be «Then something new has happened...» he added «the woman spoked ...» he he bent to stroke her ear with his breath « that's never happened before. .» he the drew back her hair, and stroked her neck « You know what he said?» Molly now wept unashamedly. _Why he not let alone her?_ «She said: what do you need? »  
  
 _Certainly had not heard right._  
  
 _Maybe she had just imagined it, in a pathetic attempt to keep out the actual words of the woman.  
  
Surely.  
  
There was no other explanation _  
  
Then Sherlock touched the skin behind her ear with his lips and her brain was short-circuited.She recorded barely of had beating her head against the wall, such was the shock and feeling of burn down there, where was touching her. She whimpered and it seemed she was not even her, but a distant, unknown voice.  
  
 _Yes ... He was looking at the life of another, it was not logical that that was happening to her_  
  
« Molly, oh Molly ... I tried so hard to send away you from me, I thought to protect you, but I was just a coward» the girl squeaked when pressed it to life so that it adheres to him. She was dazed, unable to think: _how he had gone from talking about the woman, to "this"? How he passed from the hassle that she caused him, to open-mouthed kisses on the jaw?_  
  
He pushed her harder against the wall, as if he wanted to admin her go inside , the air came out of her lungs and she thought for a moment that she wanted to get rid of her by crushing her.  
  
 _She thoughted he would have no escape. Would he have been able to do it? She was really such a big threat to him?_  
  
Then the world capsized and shefound hemself stranded on the couch upside down, with a Sherlock Holmes distraught and panting, to at least two metres away from her  
  
« This conversation didn't go as I planned» he tried, trying to regain control, but was tremble visibly and sounded toiling to breathe « This is not my area, and I'd rather stop here.»  
  
 _Ah ..._  
  
The stunning who had held captive her until then dissipated, making emerge the anger and an unpleasant feeling of _inadequacy._  
  
 _Cursed consulting detective_  
  
Molly to sit with all the confidence he could muster. She rearranged the shoulder strap of the tank top, that in the enthusiasm of the moment had dropped from a shoulder  
  
« I do not think that with the woman you worked according to your areas of expertise » spat  
  
« Two different things»  
  
« Really?» she laughed bitterly « I are not enough for you? You want me enough to get started, but in your assessment of the case, not worth it? » _this was the maximum of humiliation_ « Do you know what? » she joined him in head high, she put a finger to his chest and enunciated each word, by pressing it firmly to his torax. _Tomorrow he would have had holes in the shape of fingers, or she would have fractured a phalanx_ « _ **I am worth.** Much more than you and much more of your Mrs. Adler, and I don't need your pity or your false flattery»_  
  
Sherlock closed his eyes breathing in deeply « This is true » he breathed, grabbing her wrist «But you completely misrepresented my motivations»  
  
«I see no other reason » she replied trying to rid  
  
He pulled her back to him by trapping her, also blocking the other hand that was beating angry against his chest. __He was confused, torn by the desire to escape and overwhelmed by the need to detain her. Couldn't hardly breathe to have her so close, and it was ridiculous trk of Moriarty, suffered torturhat he, who had faked is own death, dismantled the netwoe, faced criminals, he was trembled in front of this little woman.__  
  
Molly wriggled helplessly, furious and mortified. _Even at that time he had been able to hole up in his Mind Palace, his face a empty mask, his eyes fixed, _beyond her__  
  
«Leave me now ! » she hissed and would have kicked him to the groin if he hadn't decided to return to the world at that moment  
  
« Too intense. »she heard him murmur. Or at least he thought he heard him  
  
« What? ... »  
  
« Too intense » said louder, clearing his voice. He loosened his hold, but he did not let her go, the look hooked to her « I feel overwhelmed, uncontrollably» Molly was speechless « sex is nothing but a mechanical Act, necessary for reproduction and outburst of primordial instincts ... what ... What's with the shortness of breath and the roller coaster in the stomach? »  
  
« It's how you feel? » asked Molly in a whisper. Sherlock gave a short nod « And it never happened to you before? ...» denied, without taking his eyes off her.  
  
Now, the thing had not crossed her mind even in passing, was well aware that when it came to emotions and feelings, the detective moved like in a minefield. But had seen him reciprocating effusions with Adler and had imagined that among them there was something, that the events of Sherrinford had opened up him a new world and that he was exploring it __with her,_ _ strong of her feelings __for her__  
  
«... and the woman? »  
  
« A great teacher. An relief valve, an interesting pastime ... » the distraught expression of the pathologist in his arms pushed him to explain himself better « I was tempted ... » he spluttered «there was a pain in my chest, after Sherrinford ... awareness of not being omnipotent and to can... to lose... » gulped loudly « feelings are not my area ...I was afraid to start doing it again...»  
  
«I could have helped you ...» murmured softly Molly. She had stopped fighting and was abandoned entirely to him  
  
The grimace Sherlock did, was almost of physical pain « You had to get out of my life, you should have agreed to be put aside, and I would not have to worry about you anymore ...»  
  
« That's not good reasoning, Sherlock »  
  
« It is natural for me to categorize things and people in compartments. Or at least I thought it was ... Anyway » he said « I have estimated that it would be effective and relatively harmless to benefit from endorphins released by a good sexual relationship ... »  
  
«Not very ethical ...»  
  
«Miss Adler knows how to calculate risks and benefits ...»  
  
Molly glared at the man in front of her.  
Had made a mess of his life, and instead of choosing the easy way, had naturally opted for the most complicated, creating pain at her (the dominatrix highly unlikely) and, it seemed, even to himself.  
 __A man so intelligent, but so deficient_ _  
She wondered if he had understood the implications of his confession to the end or if he was still sailing in unknown waters.  
He was tense and pale, as if he were about to faint or had been diagnosed with an incurable disease. _Probably considered himself the victim of some disease or did not explain how he did, a man controlled like him, to have sweaty hands and to work hard to breathe ..._  
  
She laughed because for once she was the strongest among them  
  
« Correct me if I'm wrong» Molly began. « Are you telling me that you were too overwhelmed by love for me, that you chose to deny it and instead of fucking me at blood, you fucked Irene Adler? »  
  
Sherlock blinked the eyelids, and inhaled sharply. He had never heard her speak in those terms, and the image that had appeared before his eyes, had pulled him back, in a pathetic attempt to get away. He didn't realize that his shirt was held tightly by two small and strong hands.  
  
«I...» gasped. He was disoriented. _She attributed him ... love?_ «... I never talked about "love"» said in an attempt to regain control  
  
« It was not necessary ... » Molly recovered the few centimeters that separated them anchoring to the fabric even more firmly « The facts speak for themselves. .. If you didn't care about me because it was so important to estrange me, to keep me safe?»  
  
« You were a distraction too that I couldn't afford ...»  
  
« So, why don't to get on with your life? What better way to cancel me, once I'd gone? »she inhaled her scent, a mixture of sweat and spices «If you don't care about me ... because your pupils are dilated and» he took his wrist beatings « the accelerated pulsations ?»  
  
« A mechanical reaction ... »  
  
Molly took the wrist to his mouth. Kissed him, lingering on the skin pale. She slid her tongue out: nothing vulgar or coarse, just a little taste, the need to see crumble his façade.  
  
 _Sherlock inhaled sharply.  
It was surreal.  
Everything.  
First of all, he wasn't capable of love, at best care, or devotion. _  
_Next, it was impossible that a mouth so polite and educated might evocargli sensations so ... dirty?  
... No ... not really, or at least not as a main effect. _  
  
Could hear every slight stroke of language in the stomach and had to fish between the notions that are classified as _useless_ , to recognize them for what they were: _butterflies._  
He had researched the meaning out of curiosity, when the victim of a case to which he had worked, said have had confidence in the individual who had emptied her the bill, because there was a strong understanding between them, and he made her feel, textual words, _the butterflies in the stomach.  
Which was impossible._  
Even if you can swallow purposely or accidentally larvae, was scientifically unfeasible that they hatched in the stomachfor to solleticarlo with their wings.  
  
A thorough search, though short, validated his opinion, imputing the phenomenon to a manifestation of stress, to situations of danger, to fear or strong emotion ...  
  
 _Strong emotion ...  
  
Was that what he felt? According to the law of probability, discarding the danger and fear ... fear of Molly? Let's go!..._  
  
He groaned aloud when Molly took to suck his middle finger, suddenly aware of how it tighted the fabric of his pants.  
 _Why didn't give himself a demeanor? How come the only thing he saw and felt was that bad mouth that sucked on his finger, and the sweet tongue that he sented a shock his groin every time he tasted he?_  
  
« If you don't stop now I do not answer for my actions » he warned her in a low-threat  
  
« Since when, Sherlock Holmes can not keep strong nerves?»  
  
The detective held his breath, while Molly slipped his middle finger into her mouth, hypnotized by the slow movement inside and out, a sensual imitation of the sexual act ... If that was a challenge, he was sure to have lost it  
  
«What you answer me, Sherlock? » she urged mischievous.  
  
She had never been to such a boldness, but she was changed a lot from when she was living in Miami. Had become less reluctant, able to sing in public or tell jokes in the middle of an autopsy, without running the risk of being ridiculed or criticized. The Americans had a wicked sense of humor, and though it took work and life seriously, they knew how to have fun, and they did their best to put each the other at ease.  
  
 _She wondered if she was overreacting with the detective, but then,if he had wanted, he would have beenalready halfway to the airport._  
  
That was the last coherent thought of Molly.  
  
She did not know how it started, or when.  
Simply, she found himself with the tongue of Sherlock in the mouth, _back to fight for the air_ , struggling to keep up, eaten, tasted, explored. _There not was a point of her mouth, that he hadn't achieved.  
  
My God! He was sucking Sherlock's tongue!_  
  
She clung to his neck and was lifted, she wrapsed he with her legs and she could not avoid melting into a long groan when her center rubbed against the detective's hard cock.  
  
This made finish the kiss.  
  
Already she imagined an abrupt return to reality with denials, excuses and inevitable farewells, in which she stayed to rebuild her love life. _Cut the crap, Molly, you don't have a love life._  
Instead Sherlock continued to detain her.  
He gasped, as a man who he had risked drowning, and the eye was veiled with passion, but also weirdly shiny, as if he were fighting a battle of emotions  
  
«Are you okay?» she asked, biting his chin. _That she was damned! If she was about to be turned down, she took advantage of it as long as he could_  
  
«I don't know» answered he with my eyes closed « this is so ... different ...»  
  
«Different but good? » she hoped, licking he from the jaw to the fold of the shoulder  
  
Sherlock lurched.  
  
All this was a source of confusion  
  
 _The throbbing of his cock had never been so intense, he felt the blood flowing in the veins and throw himself headlong in the balls, and he wanted to impale her there, where he was, to cease immediately the agony. Then he felt her smell, the wetness of her pussy through the panties.  
Could hear every centimeter of her skin touching it, and didn't want nothing more than to taste every part of her body, kiss her, hug her, hold her. Had such a need her, all of her, and did not know how to prevent himself from losing your head._  
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking for something clever to say, but it was no longer the time of had been the deductions, the machinations, the manipulations and even the notions. It was as if his life was all concentrated in that one moment. Before: a trifling fog and after ... _the reality was that he could not think of the next moment, not with Molly's hands in his hair._  
He had never heard the woman, equally strong, not as if every sensation made its way under the skin, not as if _she_ , were creeping under the skin or directly ... he swallowed at realization ... _to the heart.  
  
That was the moment when Sherlock Holmes understood_  
  
He felt the tension finally leave him, while he modeled his body to hers, and sent the remnant of his demeanour up to whores, claiming the mouth of Molly as his own. _It was not the need to make him move, but a desire to become with her, and her alone, one unique thing._ Pushed her on the couch without breaking the kiss, he settled herself between her legs and he made feel to Molly, as wished her.  
 _He was hard at the limit of bearable._  
He gave two light pushes to her core and she arched upon contact with a squeak of surprise. It was not the time for foreplay, not this time, such was the desire: _if he had waited too long would come in his pants._  
  
 _Molly had seriously, seriously fucking him_  
  
He urgently opened the trousers flap and took his cock in his hand, pumping it a couple of times  
  
«Now » said between the gasps «I intend to fuck you at blood, as I should have done a long time ago» Molly had no time to react, or to protest ( _not that she wanted to of course_ ) that Sherlock had pushed aside the shorts and panties and he had pushed himself deep inside her. She yelled for the invasion «Confirm to me which is a way of saying, Molly»  
  
«What? » asked, jolting at every thrust  
  
«Fuck you to death ... I don't want to hurt you, and I don't think » he sank into her with ever faster shots « to hold out for a long time, to do it»  
  
Molly almost laughed.  
Except that Sherlock was the image of lust and savage, unrecognizable without his usual self-control, and she felt coming herself with such a discharge, lightning between the legs, which made her arch, and tighten the walls around his cock.  
That seemed only worsen a situation already at the limit. He growled, he reached himself out to touch her even deeper, his jaw tightened for the effort, the gritted teeth; the rhythm became urgent, exalted by her vision that jerked at every stroke, absolutely and irreparably unmade...  
Then a wave swept over him, a shiver went from his cock, ran through his body, filled his brain with an absolute white, and with the last shots of the pelvis, he poured all his seed into Molly.  
  
He collapsed on her, breathing in hard rattles.  
  
It was so sweet and intimate that she was tempted to wrap her arms around him, to keep him to herself, to keep him to her.  
  
 _Instead she waited, painfully aware that he would reacquire the façade, denying or pretending that this had ever happened ..._  
  
Time seemed to lengthen as their breaths normalized  
  
« I don't know what was your plan when you came here» she said at last, unable to overstay himself  
  
Sherlock stiffened imperceptibly « Oh right ... My plan ... » he stood up on his elbows to secure her in the eyes « I'm afraid I was overwhelmed... by something beyond my ... area ...» Molly frowned « I ... fear of not knowing how to move ...»  
  
« It seems to me that you have moved very well ...» the detective raised his eyes to the ceiling « Ok, ok sorry ...I was trying to lighten the atmosphere ... it's not that I'm dying to hear you say it was nice, but that can not run... »  
  
«You know it's true ... » Molly glanced away «I'm a terrible person, unhelpful, tactless, selfish, petulant and temperamental ... I find emotional exchanges useless, to remember dates and events, and in general, I find all sorts of romanticism sickening... »  
  
« Ok ... » she murmured, defeat. She knew it would end like this, he was too busy with his own convictions to admit anything ... _At least now she knew what it felt like to be under him ..._  
  
«But ...» said, attracting his attention «distraction from not knowing anything about you was disarming and to my great dismay, once I tried to leave you to your life, I was again overwhelmed by ... void and the lack. » closed his eyes in search of the words « your lack, apparently ... » Molly gave a squeak, uncertain of having understood correctly « Oh, don't give me that look! Not such a simple thing, don't kid yourself. I'll need to figure out how deep you have dug. So be prepared for surprise visits, long study stays at your apartment, by the way, I intend to offer my talent to Lieutenant Caine. I've never seen a Caiman and fewer still, human remains in the stomach of a Caiman. »  
  
«How? What? ... What are you saying?»  
  
«Come on Molly, I thought you were smarter than John» this earned him a slap on the chest « Your work here is interesting and much more varied than in London. For this reason I find it counterproductive to ask you to come back. Not just yet, at least. I could pick up some cases, working with you and maybe» he shrugged «seek your support whenever stress threatens to overwhelm me or that I'm bored ...»  
  
«You're telling me you don't want to leave behind me?»  
  
«I admit that that was the initial intention, to see with my own eyes, test the soil ... hire someone to monitor you in my absence ...»  
  
« I do not believe in my ears.» Molly was shocked. Not only had come to spy on her, but wanted to control her for life! _What had happened to her privacy?_ But then it was Sherlock, of which she was talking, what else could she expect?  
  
«Should not be hard to believe ... Anyway we digress because that's not the point .»  
  
« And what would it be? ... Do you mind moving? You're getting heavy and I don't know if I want to feel that you would like to use me as _your Irene,_ while yet you're on me...»  
  
«No, not like her. Never like her » he hastened let her know, but he did not move, not even when she tried to push him away.  
  
«What would I be then? Your Linus blanket? »  
  
Sherlock detuned for a few minutes, before recovering the comparison  
  
«Indeed ... that's it!» Molly was startled, while he smiling like a fool « I have always needed you, not as a pathologist, friend, partner, or, grant me, lover ... but for all these things together!» the tenderness with which he looked at her brought tears to her eyes. _If someone had told her that one day this would happen, she would have laughed him in face_ « Did I say something wrong? Why are you crying? »  
  
«Because you're an idiot, Sherlock! Why I ran away to the other side of the world to escape you and even if you just say something nice, just before, you made me understand that you do not want entanglements!» she sniffled and wiped away a tear with the hem of her shirt  
  
«I didn't say that. You're wrong. I told you not to be good. In anything like that. Indeed, do I suck and really don't even know how much crap, why isn't my area, but I'm a man who lusts after the unknown, knowledge and experiments ...»  
  
«I'm not an experiment, Sherlock ...»  
  
« Molly, I'm still on a couch, with your leg propped on my ass and and your heat that rubs energetically on my groin, with every sob you make. In the past such an event, not properly planned, it would have been ignored by me. Right now, I find myself unable to think about anything else and I absolutely must understand why.» he put a hand under the prat and pushed her towards him, to let her feel he how hard « I am the experiment, not you ... »  
  
« What are you asking me? » she whispered  
  
« To guide me, to tolerate me and ... » he gulped « to bear all my quirks. I struggle to understand, but the sense of bliss and lightness that I feel right now, it can't be just a case » he closed his eyes and put his face to the jaw of Molly« I swear, I swear , I have never felt such euphoria even after solving a case and the strangest thing is that I no longer have an overcrowded mind ... I am at peace ... » he let that his words blowed gently in the air, rocked by Molly's breath and slow circles that she had taken to draw between the shoulder blades« What did you do to me? » he asked, surprised to enjoy something as simple  
  
« Nothing » _not in the last three years_. The reality was that he did it alone, letting it slowly the feelings come out in the open. I had never been an automaton, or a highly functioning sociopath, but a man who was scared. Terrified. Perhaps he would never say the right words, but Molly was a practical girl and as long as he had been able to find her even at the end of the world, she would have been content ...  
  
«So...» she said, tying legs behind his back « do you have a problem to solve, I think ... »  
  
Sherlock gave a long groan « You're a bad girl Molly Hooper ...»  
  
« You have no idea ... Second door on the ...»  
  
«... right.,I know »he stood up, ignoring the snort of annoyance of Molly «you think he really spent three months without exploring these rooms? » said overcoming the bedroom door with Molly clinging to his neck  
  
 _Of course not.  
  
Wait ... but were not two ...?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ends here  
> I hope you enjoyed it :)


End file.
